Sweetest Thing
by The Weather Gal
Summary: Sydney and Sark and decisions to make. SS
1. Getting Stuck

Author's Notes: No, I'm not stopping "Usual Adventures", but I thought I'd write another Sark and Sydney story. This one is less of them in a romance sense, but more humor (at least I'm trying to be). Reviews are great, tell me if I should continue this story or throw it out in the trash! It was inspired by the fact I thought it would be funny if it were to happen on the show!  
  
Disclaimer: The characters are owned by ABC and their "people" and trust me, I'm not one of them.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was a rather normal day at SD-6. When I say normal, I should clarify that to say I just sat around and analyzed reports and had a meeting with Sloane, another with Marshall, and was made aware of a mission I have to go on in a week and a half. Otherwise, it was slow and nothing too exciting was happening. I didn't have to rush out to the CIA yet, so I stayed later than normal and got all my work caught up.  
  
It was six p.m. when I realized how late I was actually there. The one place I truly despise on the face of the Earth and I was staying late for a change. I saw a few other people left, but since it was a Friday a few people had gone home early. What had I left to look for on my fun and exciting Friday night was a movie. Exciting, isn't it?  
  
I scanned the room and saw that Marshall was still in his office, but what intrigued me more was that Sark was still left in the building. He was sitting at a desk reading something and looked very content in what he was doing. Interesting.  
  
I finished what report I was working on and got my things to go. I headed out to go and headed towards the elevator and was greeted by a pleasant surprise.  
  
"Ah, leaving as well, Ms. Bristow?" the cocky British accent asked me from behind.  
  
"Just my luck that I get to ride the elevator with you, isn't it?" I reply back.  
  
"But the pleasure's all mine," he answers.  
  
  
  
We wait in silence and the elevator arrives to take us up to the lobby and we were not very far up when the elevator came to a crashing stop and blacked out.  
  
"What's going on?" I ask in panic.  
  
"Your guess is as good as mine," his British accent replies.  
  
"If SD-6 has been put into lock down mode, the lights should have returned and the elevator should return back to the sub-level."  
  
"Yet, we both sit here in darkness hoping that we can be returned to life once again," he adds.  
  
"Funny," I reply back with my death stare.  
  
"What are we going to do?" I then ask.  
  
"Well, I suppose we'll wait a minute or two and if it does not work, we'll crawl out of the top," he decides.  
  
"Great," I say and sit down for a second.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asks.  
  
"Sitting down," I reply.  
  
"Why?" he asks.  
  
"Because, frankly, I'd rather not stand," I tell him.  
  
He looks down at me and gives me a disgusted look and we decide to not talk anymore just through neither of us speaking.  
  
I looked at my watch and 10 minutes have passed. I look around and it still was not looking good. I had escaped from this elevator before, but didn't really want to with Sark as my helper, plus I was hoping that I wouldn't have to.  
  
He finally gets in and sits down on the floor with me. It's funny actually, because I saw it as a win for me, personally. So the games were on, Sydney 1, Sark 0.  
  
"You know, I think if you actually took the time to care, you wouldn't find me as repulsive," he begins.  
  
"Oh really? So you're saying, if I let you, how do we say it, open up to me, I would be able to see past the whole killing innocent people and everyone you come in contact thing?" I reply back.  
  
"Alright, we're playing that game I see," he says stunned at my response.  
  
"You know what? What is your deal? Since I see we have some time to kill, how about you tell me what you've got up? Seriously, you ask me to work with you while we were in Russia--"  
  
"You know, the offer still stands," he interrupts.  
  
"I'd rather kill myself, anyway, and then you try to get under my skin by saying you learned a lot from my mother, who really isn't my mother at all, so what's your point?" That took a lot more energy to say, I do admit. He kind of looked a little intrigued.  
  
"Ah Sydney, I'm glad we got our anger out. Now we can really talk."  
  
I roll my eyes at him and sigh heavily and try to move to make myself more comfortable. My back was hurting and it wasn't a good thing at all.  
  
"You okay?" he asks.  
  
"Did I say I wasn't?"  
  
"No, it look's like your back is in a lot of pain," he says.  
  
"Seriously, I don't need your pity right now, my back is fine," I remark back.  
  
"Turn around," he says.  
  
"Excuse me?" I question.  
  
"Just turn around," he forces me too.  
  
At that point, he starts giving me a massage, and frankly, I thought it was a little weird, but it sure felt good so I wasn't about to complain.  
  
"What, are you a masseuse on the weekend? Probably got some resume. Assassin during the week, back specialist on the weekends for the on the go spy," I laugh.  
  
"What, do you enjoy to listen to your own voice?" he asks.  
  
"No, but you sure do," I reply. I think I was getting giddy at this point. I was not exactly liking the closeness of the walls of the elevator and they seemed to get smaller and smaller. Soon, I was going to bust out of here.  
  
"So when are we going to go up through the ceiling?" I ask him.  
  
"It won't work," he says.  
  
"I've done it before," I inform him.  
  
"Was it down at the bottom floor?" he asks me.  
  
I reluctantly slur the words out, "Yes."  
  
"Exactly, even if we did get out, there's not a passage to climb to and we don't have the equipment to go on the cables," he informs me. He's actually very smart.  
  
"You want to go up there for a breather in a minute?" I ask. "It can be our balcony."  
  
"How about you stay down here. You're getting giddy," he says. Interestingly enough, I did agree.  
  
"Wait, you got me off my lashing out!" I just realized he had some how totally got us off of my entire rant.  
  
"Yes, I can do that rather well, can't it?" he mutters in response.  
  
"How about some answers?" I ask him.  
  
"Fine, I'll tell you one thing for every ten minutes we're in here," he says.  
  
"Wait, I just realized I haven't tried to use my cell phone," I interrupt.  
  
"Now look at who's getting off topic?" he adds. "I've already tried. Something with the elevator is screwing up the signal."  
  
"Alright, question number one, then," I state.  
  
"Question away," he adds.  
  
"Why are you working for SD-6 now?" I ask him.  
  
"Oh no, Miss Bristow, not so fast. Smaller questions, we have to gain trust first," he says. That's crap.  
  
"Fine then, what's your first name?" I then ask.  
  
"I'm not telling you," he says.  
  
"What? You said you would my answers, yet your dodging every response.  
  
"Fine, then, my first name is Andrew," he tells him finally.  
  
"Andrew, it's nice," I tell him.  
  
"Yes, but it doesn't matter," he says. We sit there for a few minutes in silence. I started formulating other questions, but was drawing a blank. How did it occur that I would get trapped in an elevator with I think the worst person in the world? Fate is not on my side.  
  
"You know, Ms. Bristow, if you get to ask a question, I think it's only fair that I get to as well," he says.  
  
"Fine, go ahead," I reply. I'll just pull a "I'm not going to answer that" if need be.  
  
"Favorite flower?" he asks.  
  
"That's it? No, in-depth questions that will give away a part of my morals or something?" I reply.  
  
"That's it, no catch," he informs me. Very interesting.  
  
"Well, if you really want to know, it's the Gerber Daisy," I tell him.  
  
"Good choice," he remarks and starts fiddling with his hands.  
  
"Oh really? Now you're a florist too!" I add. "Why'd you want to know anyway?"  
  
"Most women I've met always knew what their favorite flower is. They say that it's the flower they will demand at their wedding, etc, etc. I've woman I've met I ask them that," he informs me.  
  
"Well, in that case, what's my mother's favorite?" I ask him. Let's see if Sark is as smart as he is trying to play.  
  
"She enjoys Lilacs, if you were wondering," he tells me. Wow, he's good. He knows his stuff.  
  
We both pause a second, deciding whether or not to continue the subject of my mother. We both opt out of discussing it and I find something more suitable.  
  
"Doesn't it seem like the walls are closing in on us?" I ask him.  
  
"Are you going crazy?" he replies.  
  
I laugh at that. "No, I'm not going crazy, it's just that the longer I sit here, the smaller this elevator is getting."  
  
"Somebody needs some oxygen," he mutters.  
  
"I heard that."  
  
"I'm sure you did," he says.  
  
"Being here, it just makes me feel even lonelier," I tell him. Why was I getting open with this man, of all people?  
  
"What do you mean, Ms. Bristow?" he asks.  
  
"Stop that, call me Sydney, please," I tell him.  
  
"Okay, Sydney," he says and smiles.  
  
"It's just, this life, you of all people, should know how lonely it is, and before I left, I realized there wasn't much point in leaving, because I would just go home and sit around and watch Nick at Night or something lame like that, and it's just like, what has my life come too?" This point, I start to cry and I rub my hands in my face and Sark is right new to me, stroking a hand through my hair and soon enough I grab him and hug him.  
  
It was the sweetest thing anyone's done it awhile.  
  
  
  
  
  
~Where should I go? Did you like the first chapter? Please tell me in a review!~ Masquerade 


	2. Jogging in Place

Author's Notes: HEY everyone! Thank you for the reviews and A HAPPY NEW YEAR! I thought I would squeeze this chapter out before the New Year! Enjoy reading it! I'm not sure whether or not to continue it after this, but any reviews and suggestions should be greatly appreciated. BTW- My other fic, Usual Adventures, will not be updated until next weekend. sorry!  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Alias are owned by those who respectively created them- ABC and the writers of Alias.  
  
  
  
  
  
You know as I was sitting, hugging Sark, I realized something. What was I doing? Had I gone crazy? So I quickly pulled away.  
  
"What?" he asks.  
  
"You know what? I'm going to go for a breather up on top of the elevator, so how about you boost me up? Or I'll break your kneecaps," I tell him.  
  
"All right, then," he says and gets up right after I do. He helps me up and it's a cold feeling I get when I get into the elevator shaft. I look around first, determining that he wasn't pulling my tongue and we couldn't get out. I sat down and just took time to admire the great vastness that was the shaft. Then, I heard a noise.  
  
"You going to let me join you?" he asks from below.  
  
"Fine," I say disgusted. This was supposed to be my quiet time away from him.  
  
I helped him up and he sat down next to me on top of the elevator. I watched his expressions change from nervous to being more relaxed. It was interesting.  
  
"It's a lot more cooler up here," he says.  
  
"It's nice," I reply. It was touching that he was actually trying to have small talk between us.  
  
"I wonder if they realize we're gone," I then say.  
  
"Most likely, and if my suspicions are correct, my guess is that Sloane is having a conniption because he can't find me," he then adds.  
  
"Probably," I add.  
  
"What time is it?" he asks.  
  
I look at my watch, "It's almost seven."  
  
"We've been in here for almost an hour?" he asks me.  
  
"Hard to believe, isn't it? Feels more like two days."  
  
"Ah, in your perspective," he says.  
  
"Oh really?" I reply.  
  
We both sit motionless for a few minutes and I was starting to get restless. I stood up on the top of the elevator and started to jog in place to get my legs moving.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asks me.  
  
"Getting blood back in my legs, plus it's more eventful than sitting there staring into space," I reply.  
  
He stands up and starts to do the same as I had. We were both jogging in place on top of an elevator. Quite the hysterical experience if I had anything to say about it.  
  
We both stop at the same time and erupt in laughter. We slink back down to the ground and are laughing pretty hard.  
  
"I never imagined you as the funny type," I tell him.  
  
"And you as well," he replies.  
  
"That, was funny though," I tell him.  
  
"I would happen to agree," he says to me.  
  
"Do you want to go back down in the elevator? Try the phone again?" I ask him.  
  
"We should," he says.  
  
I crawl into the elevator first and sit back on the floor next to the elevator phone and watch as Sark gets back down, but leaves the roof panel open for air.  
  
I pick up the phone and finally get an answer on the other side. I tell the man that there is two people stuck in the elevator and he said they are working on the problem, but that the elevator all of a sudden stopped working, my luck, wasn't it?  
  
"Well, what did the man say?" he asks.  
  
"They're working on it," I tell him.  
  
"That's it?"  
  
"They don't know what happened, but they are working on it," I re- tell him.  
  
"You frustrate me, Sydney," Sark tells me.  
  
"Oh really now? Do I?"  
  
"Yes, you do," he adds.  
  
At that moment, we both felt the elevator shift and start moving slowly up the shaft. We both stood up and tried to collect our stuff. As soon as the elevator returned to the top, a man from SD-6 was there and quickly ushered us both to an area in the back.  
  
We walk into a conference room on the lobby floor of Credit Dauphine and Sloane walks in no more than two minutes later.  
  
"I hope you have a good explanation for this," Sark tells him.  
  
"The elevator was shut down by an unknown cause," Sloane tells us.  
  
"Are we free to go?" I ask Sloane.  
  
"Of course, I just wanted to make sure you two made it through without causing bodily harm to another," Sloane says.  
  
"Of course, Sydney and I get along fine," Sark tells him and I give a weak smile in response.  
  
"Well, it's Friday, and I have the weekend ahead of me, so excuse me," I say and head towards the door. I get outside when I feel a hand grasp mine.  
  
"Thanks Sydney, for being bearable," Sark says.  
  
"Always a pleasure," I sarcastically reply and head out the door.  
  
I was driving home and pondered the whole ordeal. Spending time with Sark wasn't as bad as I thought it could be. He was certainly a mysterious guy that I wasn't going to get a lot out of anytime soon. I figured I would have time to understand him a little bit further in the next few weeks.  
  
  
  
~~Review, please! Should I continue this at all? Any suggestions. and a Happy New Year!~~ Masquerade 


	3. Meeting and a Phone Call

Author's Notes: Thank you for reviewing and reading, as usual! This chapter is kind of a bridge between the last part and what I want to take this story, so I think you'll like the ending of this chapter! Thanks!  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Alias are owned by ABC, so please, I'm just having a little fun here.  
  
  
  
  
  
I walked into SD-6 Tuesday morning feeling nervous. Dixon's wife was in the hospital and he wasn't going to be going on the mission with me tomorrow. That could only mean one thing- Sark was going to go with me.  
  
I put my purse down at my desk and did a take of the room. I didn't see Sark or my father, but as I walked toward the conference room, I saw Sark already sitting down at the table.  
  
I walk in and gracefully walk over to my usual chair and take a seat. I glance over and notice that Sark was looking over some papers, and didn't appear to even take notice of my entrance. I opened up a packet of papers for the mission and began to glance over them.  
  
Two or three minutes go by and soon enough the cheery, British accented voice welcomes me, "Well, good morning, Ms. Bristow."  
  
"Hey," I only say as I glance up briefly. We hadn't spoken since our elevator problem, and it was actually kind of awkward.  
  
"Seems as if you and I will be participating on this mission together," he adds in his sarcastic tone.  
  
"Just my luck, isn't it? I get to spend more quality time with a psychopathic killer," I remark back to him.  
  
"Harsh words there, Ms. Bristow," he says before Sloane and my father enter the room, Marshall soon behind them as well.  
  
"I'm glad we're all here," Sloane says.  
  
I give my father a welcome nod and he takes the seat next to me, where Dixon normally sat. I look up on the screen as Sloane puts up a picture of a painting, or that's what I thought initially.  
  
"This here, is a painting of the old Russian monarchy before it's fall in 1917. Mr. Sark was more than pleased to share its importance," Sloane says before motioning to Sark to tell his bit of the meaning.  
  
"Yes, before the KGB collapsed, they enclosed some of their most valuable documents of their history and conception in a vault that is located behind the painting," Sark adds.  
  
Then, Sloane pulls up another picture, "This," Sloane starts, "is the current owners of the house where the painting and vault is stored. They just acquired the house and have no idea of the vault."  
  
"Well, if they were to pull the painting off the wall, wouldn't they see the vault?" I ask him.  
  
"You would think, wouldn't you?" Sark says from across the table and eyes me.  
  
"Yes, the only problem here is that there has been a wall put in front of the vault," Sloane informs us.  
  
"We have to bust down a wall in a person's house?" I ask, hopefully not foolishly.  
  
"Well, something like that," Sloane adds.  
  
"The owners of the house are going away for a week starting on Friday," Sark begins. "They are throwing a party tomorrow night, and you and I," he says, pointing at me, "are going to it."  
  
"Okay," I say in defeat.  
  
"The thing is, we won't be able to access the vault while they are there, so we have to get a fingerprint of the owner, in order to enter the house on Friday and turn off the security system," Sloane tells us.  
  
"Now it's all starting to make sense," I add in.  
  
"Indeed," Sark says from his spot across the table. I give him a weak smile back.  
  
"This is your cover," Sloane says as he passes me a book from across the table. "Sydney, you'll be posing an associate of the owners' interior designer. All the details are in the packet. Any questions?"  
  
"Yes, I just have one," I start, with Sark looking over at me curiously, "What's Sark doing during the party?"  
  
"I'll be on comms," he says.  
  
"Okay, thanks for clearing that up," I say to him back.  
  
  
  
  
  
I walked out of SD-6 soon thereafter, trying to avoid any elevator problems, and mostly, having to ride with Sark. I headed over to the CIA to ask my mother's input on the op, considering she did work for the KGB.  
  
I walked into the cage and she was sitting on the floor, doing her stretching thing. I'd rather not ask. She sees me walk in and gets up and walks over to the window with that interested look upon her face.  
  
"I'm going on a mission for SD-6, to a house in St. Petersburg where there is a vault with some old papers by the KGB?" I ask and tell her at the same time.  
  
"Yes, behind an old painting?" she asks back.  
  
"Yes," I tell her. "Is there anything I should know?"  
  
"It should be easy to retrieve, no one from the KGB has really tried to get them," she says.  
  
"Sark's going with me, and I doubt I'll be able to make a switch for the CIA," I tell her and I notice her peek up when I mention Sark's name.  
  
"Sark wants them?" she asks me.  
  
"He's the one who told Sloane about the papers," I tell her back.  
  
She studies for a second, then, as if a miracle, remembers something, "There should be, included with the papers, a list of all the underground fallout shelters in the USSR, and something's telling me, Sark wants to know where one of them is."  
  
"For what?" I ask her.  
  
"To start a new base of operations," she tells me.  
  
"And he's doing it through SD-6?" I ask.  
  
"He'll want to get the papers, and take out that one for himself," she explains.  
  
"I don't understand, why would Sark want to use an old fallout shelter?" I ask her.  
  
"That's what I used, and probably my old base of operations has been compromised and he needs a new location," she tells me with her game face on.  
  
"And you're just guessing all of this?"  
  
"Have the CIA make you a fake to put in, and hopefully, I'm right," she adds.  
  
"Alright," I say and get ready to leave when she puts up a hand on the window.  
  
"Sydney," she says.  
  
"Yes?" I turn and say.  
  
"Be careful," she adds with a smile. I can only repay her by smiling back. Then, I remember.  
  
"Wait," I say.  
  
"What is it?" she asks.  
  
"What's your favorite flower?"  
  
"The lilac? When did you talk to him?" she asks me back, obviously knowing my conversation with Sark.  
  
"Well, Sark and I got stuck in an elevator at SD-6 last Friday, needless to say, he asked me what my favorite flower is and I got on him about his flower fetish," I inform her.  
  
"Of course," she says, smiles, and I proceed out the door. He wasn't wrong, he knew the flower. Some part of me was enthralled by this discovery.  
  
  
  
I get home and Francie's working, so I'm all to myself. I start to pack when my cell phone rings. I pick it up and don't recognize the number, which is all reason to worry in my line of business.  
  
"Meet me tonight, 9pm, at Bay View Park," his British accent voice tells me over the phone.  
  
"Why?" I ask him.  
  
"Believe me, you'll want to," he says before he hangs up the phone.  
  
  
  
~~Review! Please. and what do you think Sark wants to talk to her about? Hm.~~Masquerade 


	4. A Stroll in the Park

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews! I've been having a little case of writers block and don't expect to see an update for "Innocence Interrupted" for a few days because of it! Enjoy this chapter, and please feel free to review!  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Alias are owned by ABC and it's associates, not I.  
  
  
  
  
  
I get out of my car a few blocks away from the park around 8:50 and start to walk towards the entrance to the park. He didn't specify where to meet, just the park itself. He would find me, I guessed. I couldn't believe that I actually came. I toyed with the idea for two or three hours, but figured he would have already killed me by now if he wanted to.  
  
It's a warm night in LA and the lights are brightening the walk in the park. I slowly walk down the main walkway and observe the little movement in the park. I glance in every direction, hoping to catch him off guard before he catches me. I am walking for a few minutes and glance down at my watch and observe it's 9pm exactly. So where's Sark?  
  
I pause a second, thinking I hear something in the trees, but realize it's only a squirrel that runs across in front of me. I decide to sit down at the bench ahead, and wait for him to show up.  
  
This was starting to resemble one of my CIA meetings with Vaughn. I desperately wanted to know if Sark knew about my double-agent status, but wasn't about to ask him. That'd go over well.  
  
I turned away for one second, but when I looked back, Sark had sat down on the bench next to me.  
  
"AH!" I screamed slightly. "How'd you do that?"  
  
"Do what?" he asks in reply.  
  
"Be sneaky, oh wait, you're always like that," I remark back at him.  
  
"No need to get testy yet, Ms. Bristow, I'm the one who initiated this meeting," he tells me.  
  
"Oh, trust me, I'm well aware. Which makes me want to know why?" I reply.  
  
"Our mission, we are going on tomorrow," he says.  
  
"Really? What about it?" he was actually starting to get me interested, but only a little.  
  
He placed a hand on my shoulder and it caused a chill to run through my body. It seemed as if it had dropped 50 degrees in the matter of a minute.  
  
"I wanted to make sure we were both ready," he starts.  
  
"Is this what you brought me here for, because if it is, your little "you'll want to" over the phone isn't playing out," I forcefully tell him.  
  
He starts to say something, but then seems to stop himself. I get up and start to walk away in a rather angry matter when I hear him get up from the bench and run over to me.  
  
"What?" I say.  
  
"How's your mother?" he asks me. This could not be good.  
  
"I haven't seen my mother in 20 years, so I don't know," I reply to him.  
  
"Let's be serious, Sydney, I know about you," he says. "I know the CIA has Irina and I'm not as stupid as you think I am. So don't try to act as if I am."  
  
I stand there motionless for a second. You know how I just said I wanted to know if Sark knew I was a double, well, there you have it.  
  
"So, what do you want from me?" I ask him.  
  
"How's your mother?"  
  
"Why do you care?" I ask him with a glare.  
  
"It may be hard for you to believe, but she was a great mentor for me, and got me started," he says, acting as if she's like God.  
  
"I don't need your sappy stories, Sark, now tell me, what you want from me?" I say.  
  
"Why would you think I would want something?"  
  
"What? Are you going to wait until I have done something you disliked to inform Sloane of my double status?" I angrily say to him. We were both at this point at an all out war.  
  
"You think I would do that?" he asks me.  
  
"Of course, you're a two-faced, lying, cocky kid I'd rather not have to deal with," I say harshly to his face.  
  
He stops for a second, obviously hit by the words I've said, and takes a second and steps back. I was pretty awful to him.  
  
"I'm sorry," I can only say. "That was very rude of me."  
  
"How about we settle this in a little hand on hand?" he asks me, mischievously.  
  
"I don't know, it's awful dark out," I say to him, trying to get out of it.  
  
"What are you too afraid to fight the lying, cocky kid?" Sark says.  
  
"Seriously, I said, I really didn't mean most of that," I say. Really, in actuality, I probably did.  
  
He takes off his coat and lays it on the bench. I looked over at him in horror, actually thinking I was going to have to do this.  
  
"What if someone walks by?" I ask him.  
  
"Through a park at 9pm at night? I doubt that."  
  
"Fine, but if you hurt me, you're the one without a partner for tomorrow."  
  
He gives a cocky grin and he throws the first punch. We go back and forth for a little while and gently move into a clearing in the forest. It was dark, but the movements from our kicks and punches were invisible to any passing eye.  
  
We continue to fight, and I had to admit, we were both giving each other a fair fight. We continue for a good while, when it ends up that he pins me up against a tree. We are both standing there, and his face his very close to mine. Part of me had the urge to just lean in and kiss him, but all the rest of me was saying it was wrong. He was obviously feeling the same way, and the awkward moment passes as he pulls away from me.  
  
"Good fight," he says and begins to walk away. He is walking back towards the bench, when he obviously trips over a root in the ground and falls to the ground.  
  
I rush over to him and say, "Are you okay?"  
  
"My bloody ankle, that's all," he says. I lean down and take off his shoe to inspect his ankle. It did seem to be sprained or injured in some capacity.  
  
"You know, Ms. Bristow, I can take care of myself," he says to me.  
  
"You've hurt your ankle. At least let me take you to the hospital," I tell him.  
  
"Sydney," he says, actually using my first name, "What would Sloane say if he say you bring me into the hospital?"  
  
"I would make up some lame excuse that he always believes," I inform him.  
  
"Seriously, I'll be fine," he says as he tries to get up, but is partially unsuccessful, so I start to help him up. I take both of his hands, and once we're level, we reach that awkward moment again.  
  
This time, Sark doesn't obviously want to regret passing up the moment, and leans in and starts to kiss me. I don't pull away, probably to his surprise, mostly because it honestly felt right in some manner. After a minute, we both pull away when it's apparent his ankle is hurting.  
  
"Here, at least sit down," I tell him.  
  
"Alright," he finally says, giving in to my request.  
  
"Can I at least take you home? Or call a doctor?" I ask him very gently. I had reason to despise the man, but I couldn't when he was in pain.  
  
"Fine, I suppose."  
  
  
  
I took him to my car and got him in the passenger seat comfortably. Neither of us brought up the kiss and I successfully brought him home. I got him out to his apartment, which was very nice, and he was experiencing a lot of pain through the whole ordeal.  
  
I get him situated in a chair and start to ask, "What am I supposed to tell Sloane?"  
  
"I'll deal with him," he says.  
  
"Alright, well, it's getting late, and I have a mission to go on," I start saying as I almost make it to the door.  
  
"Wait, Sydney," he says.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Thank you, for everything."  
  
  
  
  
  
~Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear comments in a review~ Masquerade 


	5. Surprise Visitors

Author's Notes: Once again, shout out to all my awesome reviewers! Sorry for the week it took to update, but I hope that will make you even more excited to read it! Hope you enjoy the chapter, and please, any comments, suggestions, or ideas, please review!  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Alias are owned by J.J. Abrams and thousands of other people.  
  
  
  
  
  
I sat on the plane, drink in hand, pondering if Sark was actually going to come or if SD-6 was going to send a replacement. We were, of course, flying separately, so I had no way of knowing if he had taken off. I had so many questions and knowing him, he wouldn't answer any of them.  
  
I swallowed another chug of my tea and stared out the window for a second. First of all, why did Sark really call me to the park? I had a feeling we never made it that far, or rather, he was too chicken or distracted to tell me. Secondly, neither of us said anything after the kiss. I didn't want to know, really, but neither of us could ignore the fact that we actually had kissed.  
  
My seat partner was a younger man, obviously on some type of business trip as well. He moved in his seat while sleeping, and I crouched over to the window closer. I glanced around, saw most of the people sleeping, considering it was dark in the sky where we were currently at. I hated long flights, especially ones that take me to Russia. I despised Russia with a passion, with the KGB and K-Directorate, it seemed I was here more than I wanted to be.  
  
The flight attendant came by and picked up my empty glass and I tried to get comfortable. I twisted and turned, but finally got in a spot that soon enough, I was sound asleep.  
  
  
  
When I woke, I glanced outside and was amazed to see it was bright out and definitely soon to landing time. I pulled my seat forward and noticed most of the cabin was up and getting ready for landing. For the first time, I was nervous, not about the mission, but about my partner on the mission. I actually hoped Sark was okay, mostly so I didn't have to go with one of SD-6's crappy back up agents.  
  
I walked off the plane and proceeded to the somewhat makeshift baggage claim. I always say, don't expect too much, considering this is Russia. The worst was the fact that I fly to crappier airports than anyone else probably ever does, but hey, there's good frequent flyer miles.  
  
When I reached the baggage claim, or the rack of luggage, I saw my bag and grabbed it. It wasn't too large, standard protocol, small, black, and didn't contain anything suspicious. I soon found my way out and onto the hotel.  
  
  
  
I made my way into the hotel, nice for St. Petersburg. I woke purposely to the front desk and gave her my reservation information, speaking in my Russian that I just love, I mean, hate, to use.  
  
"Here you are," the short lady behind the desk tells me in Russian.  
  
"Thank you," I reply, but she stops me.  
  
"Wait, this came for you," she informs me and hands me a manila envelop. Probably from Sloane, detailing the changes. I didn't bother opening it yet, but just made my way up the stairs to my room.  
  
  
  
  
  
The key they gave me was obviously over used, but I finally got the door to open and I pushed my way through the small suite. It was nice, from what I could gain from the first glance. It had a bath to the left, a sitting room, and a bedroom off to the right. I put my bags down and walked over to the bedroom.  
  
I flip on the lights and see Sark sitting upon my bed, which scares me for a second. I regain myself just in time to put on my "what the heck" look.  
  
"Excuse me?" I ask him first.  
  
"Nice to see you as well, Ms. Bristow," he cheerfully adds.  
  
"Can I ask what you think you're doing?" I demand of him.  
  
"As in?" he pipes.  
  
"You, sitting on my bed, in my hotel room," I tell him, obviously pointing out the facts.  
  
"Very good, I'm glad we're both on the same page," he says with his usual smirk.  
  
"Now that I have you here, why did you call me to the park in the first place?" I ask of him, since the opportunity appeared and since I had pondered the whole subject the entire flight.  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know?" he tells me.  
  
"What? You're not going to tell me now? But you were last night?" I say.  
  
"It doesn't matter now," he says, trying to brush me off. He gets off the bed, obviously still in a little bit of pain, but comes over to me.  
  
"How's you ankle?" I ask him very kindly.  
  
"Fine," he says quickly.  
  
"Good," I only add until the space between us gets smaller and the uncomfortable silence begins.  
  
"Ms. Bristow," he begins to break the silence.  
  
"No, wait," I say, interrupting him.  
  
"What happened, happened, and we have a mission to complete, so I think temporarily, we must clear our mind to stay focused at our objective," he tells me, professionally.  
  
"Oh, okay," I only reply.  
  
"Well, I must be off, I'll be by around 8 to take you to the party," he says before swiftly walking out of the room.  
  
I walk back into the living area and slink into one of the chairs. I glance over at a clock as it reads 4:38. I sigh for a second, knowing some of the answers to my questions. The man knew how to skirt around answers better than anyone in the business. Does that mean that he actually does like me or something? Scary thought, wasn't it? Or not really?  
  
I opened the envelope from Sloane, which was information on where and when to meet Sark, etc, I found it practically useless. I threw it on a table and took a glass of ice water from the bucket.  
  
I had room service, which I didn't exactly trust, bring up a salad for my light dinner. I downed it pretty fast and moved into getting ready for the party. I grabbed the items I needed out of my bag and headed towards the bathroom.  
  
  
  
At 7:50, I headed down to the lobby, dress and all, and sat down in one of the hotel's nicer chairs in the lobby. I had all the items I needed on me and was just waiting for Sark to show up. In a few minutes, I glanced to see him outside and saw it was two minutes to eight. Way to be early, Sark. I waltzed out the hotel and jumped into the car with him.  
  
As soon as I got settled in the van, I just started my pre-mission mantra. However, it seemed off, and the glares I was getting from Sark in the rear view mirror were not helping. Why did I feel like this mission was going to change everything?  
  
  
  
~~Thanks for reading! Any comments, suggestions, ideas, please review!~~ Masquerade 


	6. Mission and Dinner

Author's Notes: Major sorry for not updating in like, FOREVER! I'm kind of in a major case of writer's block, so please, review and encourage! Thanks again for all the great reviews. This may be my shortest chapter, but please, tell me if I should speed up the S/S more than I am right now!  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Alias belong to ABC and J.J. Abrams and his posse!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I stepped out of the van a block away and started to briskly walk towards the house. I could see many lights emanating from the house and walked right up to the front gate. I told the guard my name in Russian and proceeded to walk up to the front door.  
  
I smiled at the butler at the front door and started to peruse the people. I glanced over and got my eyes on the owners of the house. I maintained a very hush hush profile and walked comfortably through the party.  
  
"I see them," I say to Sark.  
  
"Good, now get his fingerprint," he tells me.  
  
"No, really? I thought I was here for the food," I reply to him.  
  
"Funny," he remarks.  
  
I watch the couple and see the man put down a glass and walk away from the table. I quickly move over to the table and pick up the drink and soon enough, am on my way right back out.  
  
"I got his fingerprint, I'm coming out," I tell Sark.  
  
"I'll be where I dropped you off," he replies.  
  
I give the butler at the door a quick nod and quickly walk back to the van. The easy part of the mission was done. The hard part would begin tomorrow morning. I hopped into the back of the van and we started off towards the hotel.  
  
I jumped into the front seat and had put the glass in a box. Sark glanced over at me and we both kept in silence half way back to the hotel.  
  
Sark broke the silence by saying, "What are your plans for the remainder of the evening?"  
  
"Sleep, how about you?" I ask him.  
  
"So early?" he asks.  
  
"You've got a problem with it?" I tell him with a glare.  
  
"No, but I do know of this lovely restaurant in St. Petersburg that I'd love to go to," he says.  
  
"What, are you asking me on a date?" I ask him, foolishly kidding with him.  
  
"No, not at all, Ms. Bristow, I was merely saying we could both use some food and it's a great restaurant. Your mother and I would dine there often," he tells me. Using information about my mother, more of his evil plan to get at me.  
  
"Well, I guess I am a little bit hungry," I say to him with a small grin.  
  
"Splendid," he says. Great, now I'm going out to dinner with one of the worst assassins in the world, who, I kissed in the end of a one on one hand- to-hand combat we both participated in a day ago. We continued the rest of the ride in silence until he turned the car into a small parking lot.  
  
We both jump out and walk into the very quiet restaurant. Sark asks for a table for two in Russian and we are led to a very quiet table in the back corner. It's very nice and glancing over the menu, it had many Russian dishes and specialties.  
  
"So, what's good to eat?" I ask him.  
  
"Everything," he replies.  
  
"Oh, really? What should I get then?" I say out loud.  
  
"Try the pasta dish," he actually says.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes," he says and looks back down at his menu for a second before placing it on the table.  
  
The waitress comes, Sark orders us wine and we both order our dishes. I stop and wonder what I possibly could even talk with him about that would cause us to get into a full out verbal war.  
  
"We both would rather not begin a conversation, only in risk of getting angry at the other, so I thought I would begin," he starts. "How's school?"  
  
"How did you know?" I ask him.  
  
"I know everything," he tells me.  
  
"Well, in that case," I decide. "It's good, I'm almost finished."  
  
"I was surprised, along with your mother, to see you continue after learning the truth about her," Sark says. He was actually being bearable.  
  
"I almost stopped, but I'm guessing you already knew that," I say.  
  
"Yes," he replies.  
  
I finally give in and start where I wanted to start to begin with, "Are you going to just pretend like it never happened?"  
  
"What?" he replies quickly, taken back by my question.  
  
"Don't 'what' me," I tell him with my glare.  
  
"Fine, I guess we're actually going to talk about that," he says.  
  
"How can you ignore it?" I ask him.  
  
He sighs for a second, before continuing, "If I didn't ignore it, it would manifest itself into something on a larger scale. In our line of work, you can't have relationships."  
  
"Is that it? That's all you have to say?" I ask him.  
  
"Yes," Sark says.  
  
"Fine," I say coldly back to him and stare at the ground. Luckily, the waitress arrived with our salads and I was able to set my eyes on the food.  
  
The rest of the dinner was very quiet. We both ate our food and only said a few words here and there, pass this, how's your meal, etc. I tried not to have eye contact with him at all and was rather successful. We both finished quickly and headed out the door.  
  
I was about to go to the van when I felt Sark's hand grab my arm.  
  
"What?" I ask him with a hint of anger in my voice.  
  
"I never regretted it, not one bit," he says. Then, he pulls me in and we begin to kiss again. What kind of relationship did we have now?  
  
  
  
~~Reviews! Please!! Thanks for reading!!!~~ Masquerade 


	7. Simple Conversations

Author's Notes: Well, not much to say for this chapter, except I hope you like it! Thanks so much, seriously, to all my awesome reviewers. You have no idea how your simple reviews light up my day. Enjoy the chapter!  
  
Disclaimer: Alias and the characters in it definitely don't belong to me, they are the great work of J.J. Abrams and his awesome staff that we praise and worship every Sunday!  
  
  
  
**Sydney POV**  
  
  
  
This time, I pulled back hastily. I wasn't going let him take advantage of me again. He wasn't going to act like it meant nothing, then go and kiss me again.  
  
"Can we go back to the hotel?" is all I say to him. I walk back over to the car and I can tell out of the corner of my eye that he's standing, in awe. I jump in the car and he quickly gathers himself and also gets in the vehicle.  
  
Not a word is spoken as we drive back to the hotel. I quickly get out of the car as soon as we arrive and go up to my room quickly. I took the stairs, I wanted the exercise, plus I wouldn't have to ride up the elevator with Sark. The elevator. that was one good moment we've had together.  
  
When I got into my room, I changed into some more comfortable pajamas, got out of my horrendous dress that was bugging me, and made my way out to the balcony.  
  
I brought out a book I had been reading, but it only had been placed on the table. I sat down in the not so comfortable patio furniture on the balcony and just stared out into the night sky. Everything that happened tonight was so awkward. How was I to work with him tomorrow? I could do what he had done in the first place, just ignore the fact and pretend it never happened. See how he feels.  
  
I stopped a second. Since when had I turned so cold? So ruthless? Then again, I was only dealing with Sark and you had to be ruthless.  
  
I got up to leave, but I heard the door open to the adjacent balcony and a person walk out onto it.  
  
"Lovely night, isn't it?" his British accented voice tells me.  
  
I turn around slightly and reply, "It's not too bad."  
  
"Russia has this cold, peaceful air to it, doesn't it?" he says.  
  
"It does," I add.  
  
We stood in silence for a second, both looking out into the night, side by side. After a minute or two, I could feel him coming closer to my side. I stayed in the position, trying to ignore the fact he had moved.  
  
"Sydney," he says.  
  
I stood, quiet, allowing him to further the conversation.  
  
"I don't know what to say to you," Sark adds.  
  
"Well, isn't that a first," I mutter under my breath.  
  
"Can we start over?" he asks me, quietly, as if he had been pondering the question for a long time.  
  
"Start over?" I ask, finally turning my head to face his. "With all our history, I find that to be impossible."  
  
"At least give me a second chance," he says, breaking out of his normally very professional mold to turn more quiet and reserved.  
  
"I'm tired, it's been a long day, so I'm going to bed now," I say and briskly walk back in, once again, leaving myself with the upper hand in the situation. I had done that twice tonight, so I was rather pleased with myself. I didn't seem that vulnerable to Sark anymore, and it surely helped in working with him.  
  
Right as I was to get into bed, I heard a subtle knock on my door. It couldn't be him, or could it? I walked over to the door, and sure enough, Sark stood, black and all, outside my door. I couldn't run from him, so I just opened the door.  
  
"I don't like the fact you keep leaving the situation winning," he bluntly tells me.  
  
"Aw, Sark doesn't like losing? Is that right?" I joke with him. Personally, I loved leaving the situation winning.  
  
"Ms. Bristow, your making my nerves max out right now, so I would watch your back before I knock you out," he tells me very informatively.  
  
"You wouldn't touch me if you were ordered to," I tell him in reply.  
  
"Is that a challenge?" he asks me back.  
  
"I'd rather it not be, considering we have to get up early and break into a house, then take out a wall in said house, all without getting caught, so if you'd excuse me, I'd like to go to bed," I tell him, turning away from him.  
  
I could tell he was going to make a move, so I swing back around and block his first punch, and we continue in the small bedroom area for a minute or two, and before I know it, he's got me pinned under him.  
  
"Why do you insist fighting me with an injured ankle?" I ask him why we stay motionless on the floor.  
  
"Why do you insist on talking so much?" he asks me.  
  
"I talk a lot? I think you enjoy the sound of your voice too much, with that stupid accent," I tell him.  
  
"You're such a stupid woman sometimes," he says to me.  
  
"Well, I hate you too," I kindly tell him with my harsh voice.  
  
"I've never been a great fan either," he says.  
  
We both pull back finally, and I fix my clothing and examine any bruises I might have gained from our little fight. Weren't we supposed to be working together, not against each other?  
  
"I suppose I must getting along now," he says making his way towards the door.  
  
"Why did you call me to the park the other night?" I bluntly ask him.  
  
"Why?" he stops and actually turns around.  
  
"Yes, why," I repeat.  
  
"It's too complicated now," he tells me.  
  
"I think I could understand," I inform him.  
  
"You're too innocent sometimes, Sydney," Sark says, actually using my name.  
  
I walk up over to be closer to him, "Why did you call me to the park?"  
  
He sighs in defeat, and turns away a second, then back towards me, "I've always admired you, every part of you, studied your missions, ones we've been on fighting each other, and more recently, those we've taken apart in together, and if there's one thing I've garnered from all of my studying of you," he says stopping a second, as to catch his breath, "is that I think I'm in love with you."  
  
I could never imagine Sark in love with me, or rather, anyone for that matter. It was amazing though, the words he said, they were magical and wonderful and romantic. I couldn't ignore that fact. I had just stood there, for a second, and realized I had said nothing.  
  
"I don't need to hear it from you now," he says, acting as if I was going to make a mean, witty reply.  
  
"Fine, you won't hear it," I say to him, and bring him in to kiss me. Is this what he truly wanted? Is this what I really wanted?  
  
  
  
~~Thanks for reading! Reviews rock my world, so please drop me a line or two!~~ Masquerade 


	8. As Time Goes On

Author's Notes: Thanks for all the great reviews and enjoy this extra long chapter! Please review, they really help to keep writing! Hope everyone is as excited as I am for tonight's episode!  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Alias belong to ABC and J.J. Abrams and all those great people.  
  
  
  
**Sydney POV**  
  
I woke up the next morning and felt another body very close to mine. It was a warm, comforting feeling. I had to think a second, and remember, that it was Sark. After we had kissed, we laid in bed just talking and practically making out. We didn't want to take it fast because we were practically just starting.  
  
I felt Sark's body shift over and I saw his smiling face meet with mine for a short kiss.  
  
"Morning," he says.  
  
"Good morning to you too," I tell him with my biggest grin.  
  
"We have a lot of work to do today," he informs me.  
  
"Can't we just lay here all day?" I ask him playfully.  
  
"I only wish," he says getting out of the bed.  
  
I lie back into the bed and put the covers over my bed. I feel him jump on the bed and pull them off my head.  
  
"Not fair," I tell him.  
  
"Sydney, my love, we really must do this mission now," he informs me professionally.  
  
"Alright," I say to him and jump out of the bed.  
  
"I'm going to go to my room and we'll meet in 15 minutes?" he says and questions.  
  
"Sounds good," I tell him and start to get things ready.  
  
  
  
We meet at the van and hop in and set out. We have small talk for the beginning of the ride out to the house, but I soon change the conversation to hopefully get some more information on Sark.  
  
"So, what are these papers in the vault going to have on them anyway?" I ask him, as if I was curious about our mission.  
  
"Hopefully information that I have been looking for ever since your mother's disappearance," he tells me.  
  
"What? And you're not going to give Sloane the info?" I ask him.  
  
"Some of it I will," Sark says. "I know what you're trying to do."  
  
I perk up at his comment, remembering that he does know about my double agent status, "Oh really?"  
  
"I'll consider giving some of it to take to the CIA," he says mildly. This is where we were going to be able to easily get into a fight or two.  
  
"How generous of you," I tell him in my cocky attitude.  
  
"Fine then," he replies.  
  
I glance over at him and soon enough am giving him the stare of death again. What happened to the chemistry that we had earlier? Did it die as soon as we were brought back to reality? Could we not survive in the mess that is our jobs?  
  
We ride the rest of the way in silence and get to the designated location. We do a glance over and it appears that the building is vacant, as to be expected. I turned on my CIA transmitter just so they could hear, in case of something bad occurred, and prayed that Sark wouldn't say anything about last night. Knowing him, he would for that exact reason.  
  
We perused the property and easily accessed the security system with the fingerprint we gathered from the party last night. We walked in and easily found the painting and area to be "removed."  
  
We started working very professionally and within no time, had the job done. We pulled off the piece of wall, and sure enough, there laid a safe.  
  
Sark placed the code scrambler on the door and it opened in a minute or two. He opened the door and in it laid a good carton full of papers.  
  
"We don't have time to pick and choose, so we're taking the whole thing," he informs me. Sounds fine to me. . We place it in a briefcase and start putting the wall back together. We work together as if we were two, professional partners with no underlying issues at hand.  
  
As we both are placing the painting back on to the wall, I hear a voice in my head, rather, Vaughn's voice coming through my head, saying, "Someone's here."  
  
I tell Sark, "I think someone's here."  
  
"Well, they won't find us," he says as we quickly make our way out the back to the trees and sure enough, someone had arrived at the house. We peer through the trees to see who it was, but it only seemed to be the cleaning company or something along those lines. We made our dash through the trees and made it back to the van.  
  
"Close there at the end," I say under my breath as soon as we jump in the car.  
  
"You call that close?" he asks me, back again with the cocky attitude. One small little issue that we have can cause so much friction between us.  
  
"Under these circumstances," I reply back to him.  
  
We drove back to the hotel in silence and gathered up the gear and he drove me to the airport. We didn't discuss anything that had happened, and I figured it was going to stay that way now. I didn't get it, we shared such a wonderful evening together and the next day we end up hating each other again because of our jobs. Go figure.  
  
As I headed down the lobby with my one bag in hand, I noticed he was waiting in a chair by the exit in an alcove. I chose not to acknowledge him at first, until he called out my name. I turned and saw him and carefully went over to sit next to him.  
  
"You rang?" I ask him.  
  
"Sydney, is this how it's going to be?" he asks me.  
  
"I guess so," I reply.  
  
"Do you want it to be like this?" he asks me, placing a hand on mine.  
  
I whisper softly, "No."  
  
The question remained in my mind still, do I want to be with him? There was always Vaughn and I don't think the CIA would let me be in a romantic relationship with a well known assassin. I could imagine Kendall right now having that conversation with me.  
  
"How about when we get back to LA, we go out to dinner," he asks me.  
  
"Are you asking me out on a date?" I ask him playfully.  
  
He leans in very close and replies, "Yes. Do you accept the invitation?"  
  
I lean in even further and tell him, "I'd love to."  
  
He pulls in even closer and we share a gentle and affectionate kiss. I had to pull away because I had to catch my flight.  
  
"Airport's calling me," I tell him.  
  
"At least let me drive you," he says.  
  
"If you're offering," I reply.  
  
We walk hand in hand to the exit and he ushers me to the van. I jump in shotgun and he gets in the driver seat.  
  
"Is this safe?" I ask.  
  
"What?" he replies, meaning my question could have several possible meanings.  
  
"Us, together, is this safe?" I say, restating my question in more depth.  
  
"In some respects, it may not be, but in the end, if it's meant to be, it will be," he says, in retrospect it's the most romantic thing he's said yet. I give him a smile in recognition, and he continues driving the van towards the airport.  
  
  
  
When we arrive at the airport, he grabs my hand right before I exit the door.  
  
"Sydney," he starts.  
  
"Yes?" I ask very sheepishly.  
  
"I love you," he says before kissing me quickly.  
  
"I'll see you back at home?" I ask him.  
  
"Of course," he replies and I jump out of the car.  
  
  
  
  
  
I waltz in the airport and check in and head towards my gate. When I get there, I sit down in an open chair. I really despised airport chairs, but I'm over it. I looked up and the desk and realized that my flight had been delayed. Just my luck, isn't it?  
  
I walked up to the desk and asked the woman in Russian what the matter was. She says that the plane's landing gear had been injured in the landing here and that the nearest mechanic was in Moscow and was going to be flown here. I asked her how long it was going to be and she said at least 4 hours. So, I retreat back to my very uncomfortable seat and reach for the book I had out of my bag.  
  
I started reading and heard my cell phone go off. I picked it up and noticed it was a number I didn't recognize. I pressed send and pulled the phone up to my ear.  
  
"Hello?" I say.  
  
"Dear Sydney, it seems your stuck in an airport?" his British accent informs me.  
  
"Yes, I've been made aware of that information already," I reply to him.  
  
"Well, I think I could remedy the problem," he tells me.  
  
"Oh really?" I reply playfully.  
  
"Turn around and look near the bathroom," Sark says.  
  
"Okay," I say and get up and scan the room, finding the bathroom, and sure enough, his blue-eyed, blonde haired body is waiting for me. I grab my purse and walk over to him, ending the call on my way.  
  
"What are you doing here?" I ask him.  
  
"I did a check on your flight and found it to be delayed," he tells me.  
  
"Yeah, just my luck, isn't it?" I smile at him.  
  
"I've cleared it with Sloane, you can ride back to LA with me," he informs me.  
  
"Seriously?" I reply with a grin on my face.  
  
"Indeed," he tells me.  
  
We walk out the airport and jump back into the van. Smiles are exchanged, knowing that this airplane ride could be very eventful.  
  
"Wait," I say.  
  
"What?" Sark asks.  
  
"My bag," I exclaim.  
  
"My men are talking care of that," he informs me.  
  
"You have men for everything, don't you?" I ask him.  
  
"Practically," he replies, being serious.  
  
My feelings for Sark were in the developing stages. He had declared his love for me, and I had to admit some thing inside of me had some feelings for him as well. His mysterious state of being probably helped me to yearn to want him, but we'll just have to wait and see. 


	9. Eyes, Hair, Wit, and Love

Author's Notes: I know it's been forever since I last updated, but I've been super busy. Reviews would so help me write faster and I need some right about now. I've been in a rut. Thank you for reading and enjoy the chapter!  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Alias belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC.  
  
**Sydney POV**  
  
After I had been settled down in my seat, I was given a glass of water by the nice flight "assistant" as he called himself. Sark had disappeared off somewhere when we entered the plane after showing me where to sit. I had done a once over of the plane when I entered, but it appeared to be the standard schematics of a private plane.  
  
I opened my laptop and started typing up the mission debrief for Sloane. I stopped a second and remembered that I would have to face the CIA about the new relationship that had developed between Sark and I. What would I say to them? By the way, I'm kind of in a serious relationship with a well-known criminal that you want to lock up forever. Kendall would just love that.  
  
It made me think a second. Could I really do this? Claim to date a person whose beliefs I don't agree with in all respects. I don't think so, but then again, we did have some chemistry. He was one of the only people that I truly didn't understand, which made me want him even more. My thoughts were so mixed right now.  
  
And there was Vaughn. We had a lot of chemistry as well. I could tell him practically everything and he understood what I was going through. However, we couldn't be together. But, could Sark and I?  
  
I heard him approaching and quickly got focused back onto what I was working on.  
  
"What were you thinking about?" he asks me.  
  
"What to write to Sloane," I say as my cop out answer.  
  
"I really don't think you were," he says.  
  
"What, do you have ESP?" I joke.  
  
"What are you afraid of, Sydney?" he asks.  
  
I pause a second and look up into his beautiful blue eyes and feel a surge of electricity go down my spine. I look back down quickly and can't stop from looking at him now.  
  
"What am I afraid of?" I say, pondering the question asked.  
  
I sigh a second before responding to him, "I'm afraid of loving the wrong person."  
  
He looks at me, surprised in my answer, he shuffles his feet and sits down next to me. We both sit in silence before he says something.  
  
"I know you might not be ready for anything with me, and I understand completely," he says, becoming the nicest thing he's ever said to me.  
  
"It's not that," I roll off the tip of my tongue.  
  
His head perks up and looks straight at mine, "Then what?"  
  
"You and me, we both have different views on certain things," I start.  
  
"That seems to be the case now," he tells me, barely whispering the "now".  
  
"Just, everything's so complicated," I say, frustrated and throwing my hands up into the air.  
  
"When aren't things complicated?" he replies.  
  
"For us?" I start, he answers with a slight nod. "Never."  
  
I continue, "I just wish I could meet you in a normal scenario. You know, not have the whole pretense that I know you're an assassin and former employee of my crazy mother. I wish I could walk into a coffee bar and introduce myself to you, flirt with you a little, and not having to worry what will happen if we pursue a relationship. Every man I ever love, I've run into the same problem."  
  
He takes my hand and gives me a squeeze, giving his recognition that he understands what I'm saying with out words. We both look at the small unity that has been formed with the union of our hands and seem to enjoy it. Was something little like this the sign I was looking for? That it was okay?  
  
He leans over and starts to kiss me. I don't stop, because for once, I understand why. We're destined to be together, all the bad is put behind to plan for all the good that could come.  
  
I wake up and realized I'm resting on Sark's lap. He's got the book I had in my bag open and he was already on chapter 5. He was a speedy reader, so I knew one fact about him. I started to stretch and he noticed I was awake.  
  
"Hello," he whispers and plants a kiss on my head.  
  
"Hey," I say with my smile and return the kiss on his cheek. I get up and stretch my muscles a little and notice he's staring at me.  
  
"What?" I say to him, partially in giggle.  
  
"Nothing," he says and tilts his head down to continue his reading.  
  
I stomp my foot, "Now, Andrew Sark, you better tell me what you were staring at me for, now!"  
  
His head jerks up and I see a smile reach across his face, "I was thinking how beautiful you truly are and how lucky I am."  
  
I sit down next to him and take his hand, "Really?"  
  
"Everything about you, Sydney, I love, your eyes, your natural hair, your smile, your laughter," he starts.  
  
"Stop," I say blushing, "Don't I get to say nice things about you now?"  
  
"Well, if you're offering," he says.  
  
"I love your sarcastic attitude and your wit, your eyes, and the way you make me feel so special," I tell him.  
  
We lean in for a kiss when we feel the airplane start it's decent.  
  
"I think we're landing," he informs me.  
  
"Back to the real world," I mutter.  
  
"What are you telling your CIA superiors?" he asks me.  
  
"I wasn't planning on telling them anything, actually," I tell him.  
  
A smile creeps upon his face, "Good. Good."  
  
Once we're getting off the plane, a car escorts us back to SD-6. I accompany Sark into the building and we both act very professionally, pretty much for the first time since we had left for Russia. We walked into Sloane's office and Sark handed him the information he had wanted.  
  
"I hope this wasn't too much trouble to get," Sloane's measly voice comments to us.  
  
"Not at all," I tell him.  
  
"Working with Agent Bristow was a pleasure, sir," Sark tells him.  
  
I have to hold back from kissing him at that moment or even cracking a grin.  
  
"The mission went without a hitch," I add in.  
  
"Very good, well, nothing new for today, so I guess we'll see you both tomorrow," Sloane tells us.  
  
We both walk out and I notice him slip me a piece of paper into my pocket and wait until I reach my desk to open it.  
  
Meet at the park, tonight at 7.  
  
-A.S.  
  
Another meeting in the park. Who knows what this one could bring us to.  
  
~Thanks for reading! Reviews help me write faster and better, so leave one or two!~ Masquerade 


	10. Special Arrangements

**Author's Notes**: Thanks to all the reviews from the last chapter, they helped me to get this one out faster. I don't know if I should end this story quickly, or if I should stretch it out. Any comments or suggestions would be greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading and enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: The characters of Alias belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC and all those awesome people!

****SYDNEY POV****

            I walked in and dropped my bag at the door. I headed over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water and twisted the top off. I took a large gulp and grudged my bag with me into my room. I threw it in the corner and figured I would unpack it later. Right now, I needed a nice warm bath in the comfort of my bathroom.

            I gently stepped into the scalding hot water and could just feel the grime being washed off my skin. Don't get me wrong, I love Russia, it's just that I feel like I have to clean myself of everything I did when I return home. Makes understanding my life so much easier. I lit a few candles and felt so relaxed. I had two hours until 7, until our meeting was due to take place. 

            What was going to happen? Hopefully not a repeat of our last encounter in the park. Maybe he'll do something semi-romantic and surprise the living daylights out of me. Highly doubt it, I'm talking about Sark here. However, he did so much more open and relaxed around me. Maybe he did with all his women.

            Speaking of, how do I not know that he has women scattered around the globe for whenever he's conveniently there. I'll have to ask him about that. He probably won't be too happy with me if I do.

            I heard the front door squeak open and figured it had to be either Will or Francie. I just sit back and relax in my bath and wait for one of them to acknowledge themselves. How could explain this to them? I couldn't, especially to Will, so I wouldn't. It would be easier to play it this way.

            I heard a small tapping on the door and a quiet, "Sydney, you in there?"

            "Hey, Will," I reply.

            "Just checking," he tells me and I jump out of the bath and wrap my bathrobe around me. I wrap a towel around my wet hair and open the door and feel a sweep of cold air envelop me. I walked into the kitchen and saw Will sitting on the counter with an orange in hand.

            "Hey," I tell him. 

            "How was your trip?" he asks me.

            "It went well," I say, the only response that I could come up with that wouldn't give him the slightest hint at what really went one.

            "That's good," he replies.

            "Hey, I have to get ready for this meeting I have tonight," I say to him.

            "A date?" he questions.

            I have to lie, something I hadn't wanted to do, "No, I meeting an old friend I just caught up with."

            "Oh, okay," he replies. 

            I walk back into my room and pull out a simple outfit, black pants and a brown flowery top. Something simple enough for any environment that I may be faced with tonight. What was he going to have us do? Maybe we'll go to dinner, or maybe dancing, or maybe nothing. Maybe I'm taking this too far. He'll probably want to break it off.

            With that in mind, I continued getting ready. Dried my hair straight and dabbed a little bit of makeup, enough to be barely noticeable. I changed into my outfit and soon enough it was quarter to 7. I quickly said goodbye to Will and headed out the door. I drove to some pop music to the park and parked my car in an alley by the park. Didn't want anyone to know I was around here from the CIA. I casually got out and started my walk into the park.

I walked to our infamous bench from our first encounter and took a seat. It was 7:01 and no sign of Sark. I grabbed a mint out of my purse and applied some chap stick to pass the time. I waited… for it seemed like an eternity. In retrospect, it was only 5 minutes.

            I turned my head when I felt his body sit down next to mine on the bench.

            "I was getting impatient," I tell him.

            "I had some business to attend to," he explains.

            "Well, what did you want?" I ask him, getting down to the real reason he asked me here. He uncomfortably shifted in his seat and waited a second to respond.

            "I figured we could have dinner, if it's not too much trouble for you," he asks nervously, the first time I've seen him out of his strict persona.

            "Oh really now? Are you asking me out on a date?" I playfully joke with him.

            He obviously could tell I was kidding and smiles at me back, "Yes, I am."

            "Alright, we're we going?" I get up and start walking.

            He must be stunned by my actions because it takes him a second to jump up and run up to me, "Seriously?"

            "I know the first time we've gone out to dinner it didn't fare very well, but let's make this time better," I tell him.

            "Good," he quietly says and leads me hand in hand to his awaiting limo.

A silence comes over us as we drive in his very nice limo. I wait to say anything, but he obviously has something to say.

            "Where did you leave your car?" he asks me.

            "Oh, in a nearby alley out of the way," I inform him.

            I get a brief nod from him in approval. He shifts and I wait to start saying something before the shrill of his cell phone interrupts me. He quickly flips it open and starts speaking in what it seems like code. He turns his face away from me and makes it apparent that I can't hear him.

            I give up on trying to listen in on his phone call and just observe the people passing us by. Nothing like observing the LA nightlife at it's finest. We make a turn into an area of town that is very upper class and that I wasn't exactly familiar with. Soon enough, Sark ends his call and directs his attention back to me.

            "Business," he explains, barely hinting at any of a million things it could be about. The mystery behind Sark is ultimately the only thing that could destroy our budding relationship, but for now, I ignored it.

            "So, we're we headed?" I ask, pushing the call out of my mind for now.

            "Now Sydney, you ask to many questions. Be patient," he says, almost teasing me.

            I give him my playful pouting frown and turn my head away. He quickly grabs my arm and pulls me into a short kiss.

            Once we pull back, I say to him, "I hope that's how you like ending every fight. I'll make sure to fight you more often."

            "Oh really now, Ms. Bristow?" he questions.

            "Yes, indeed," I reply and notice the limo pulling into a very nice looking home. Must be Sark's.

            We are in fact there when the driver opens the door for both of us to get out. I take Sark's hand and he leads me into the door. I lean in close to him and whisper, "Doesn't Sloane have security on your house?"

            "He removed it a week ago," he explains.

            "Oh, good," I say in relief. The last person I wanted to know about Sark and I being Sark and I was Sloane. 

He takes me in the front entrance and I sense a mood being present in the house. Candles were lit and he took me into a formal dining area, where a candlelit table for two was prepared. He pulled out the chair for me and let me sit, then took his own seat.

            "I figured this was a safer idea than dining in public," he explains his action.

            I can only nod because of the ultimate amazement I just experienced walking into such a romantic gesture. He must actually really like me, which was hard for me to understand without something in the back of my mind saying, 'He's playing you' or something along those lines.

            A waiter comes out from what appeared to be the kitchen and opens a bottle of wine and pours it into our bottles. He quickly disappears without one word to either of us.

            I finally say something to him, "You planned all this?" 

            He looks surprised at me, then replies, "For you? Of course."

            I smile at his response as I head the doorbell ring. I wondered if it was more addition to our already magical evening. I looked at Sark and by judging his expression, my guess that it wasn't.

            "Wait here," he tells me and stands up and heads toward the front door. He didn't look too pleased that something, or rather someone, interrupted his plans.

            I waited in my seat and took a swig of my wine. It was rather good wine, but then I remembered that Sark was the expert of wine.

I had been waiting for two minutes when I heard the person at the door. It was a familiar voice and then it hit me. Who else in LA would know exactly where Sark lived? Sloane of course, so I made my exit towards the bathroom and found one quickly to steak out in. I was bored after a minute or two, so decided to try to make my escape quickly upstairs. I easily did, avoiding the rooms that appeared to have Sark and Sloane in them. 

            I climbed the stairs and found my way into Sark's bedroom. It was decorated in dark reds and blacks and was very masculine. I examined its decorations and graced my hand across the silk bed coverings and glanced around the entire room. I have to admit, he has a good knowledge in fashion and decorating. And he was cute, so adorably cute. How did I get so lucky?

            I came out of the room and peered my listening downstairs and heard the words "Rambaldi" and "Manuscript" and figured they were still here. I found my way into his "game room", or that's what I appropriately named it. It had a black leather couch and a very nice flat screen TV. Doubt he used it much, had it more for show. I took a seat on the couch and opened a book that way lying on the coffee table on Greece. 

            Soon becoming engrossed in the book, I didn't even notice Sark was in the room until I felt two warm hands placed on my shoulder.

            I turned my head up to see him and gave him a smile. He leaned down and planted a small kiss on my cheek and proceed to sit down next to me.

            "How was Sloane?" I ask him.

            "Boring as ever," he says in reply. "He likes to show up uninvited as much as possible to make my only free time unenjoyable."

            "Sorry," I say to him, with my best smile. He places his hand on my cheek and we lean in and kiss.

            "No, I'm sorry, our perfect evening has been ruined now," he says.

            "No, it hasn't. We have plenty of time to make our night enjoyable," I tell him. 

            "Then, its set, shall we eat?" he asks. I stand up and take his hand and he leads me down his beautiful, Victorian stairway. 

As soon as we walk into the dining area, we're startled by the person that greets us there. 

            "I know you too good, Mr. Sark, I knew you were up to something," Sloane says in his weasel voice. I quickly grab Sark's hand in protection and he looks as scared as I.

~~Thanks for reading! Reviews are great appreciated!~~ Masquerade


	11. A Special Package

**Author's Notes: **Thanks again to all my great reviewers and anyone who still reads this! Enjoy the chapter and I'd love to hear from all of you!

**Disclaimer: **The characters of Alias belong to ABC and J.J. Abrams and I never will own them!

****Sydney POV****

*****************************************************************************

            As soon as we walk into the dining area, we're startled by the person that greets us there. 

            "I know you too good, Mr. Sark, I knew you were up to something," Sloane says in his weasel voice. I quickly grab Sark's hand in protection and he looks as scared as I.

****

****

*****************************************************************************  

            "And Sydney, it's interesting to see you here," Sloane remarks.

Before I can intervene, Sark pipes up first and defends my honor, or rather, what normalcy that remains.

"We were just having a simple business dinner to help settle some of our differences," Sark tries to explain to him. A plausible excuse that I hoped Sloane would eat up. Who knows, he always seems to believe the ones my dad and I conjure up.

"A simple business dinner?" Sloane questions.

"That's all," Sark replies.

"Sydney, anything to say?" Sloane asks me.

"During our last mission, Mr. Sark and I came to an understanding that it would be better to be friends than enemies, so he simply invited me for dinner to ease the tension," I explained to him, in half truth. The understanding was a lot more complicated though.

"Very interesting you two," Sloane begins. "But as much as I would love to believe your total honest crap, I don't think I can."

I'm a little taken back by his response, but Sark quickly defends our honor, per say.

"I don't know what you're implying here, Mr. Sloane, but Sydney and I are just friends," Sark explains. I hope he honestly didn't mean that, but knowing the situation, he couldn't.

"My only question is why you would have your 'simple business dinner' here at your home, Mr. Sark. You try to keep it's location as secretive as possible," Sloane says.

Knowing that his statement would be true if the lie we had made up was true, Sark seemed to be working quick on his feet tonight. He must really care about 'us' if he didn't mind standing up to Sloane.

"I decided by inviting Sydney to my residence we would able to form a friendlier bond," he explains to Sloane. "Ever since we were trapped together, we've been tearing away our former hate against another."

"I did notice that," Sloane comments. "But…"

He paused for a second and I gave Sark's hand a gentle squeeze of hope that hopefully Sloane wouldn't notice.

"Then, if you wouldn't mind, I'll join you for dinner," Sloane says, inviting himself into the meal. 

If Andrew told him no, it was done for the both of us, so hopefully he would say yes. The only downfall was that Sloane would make sure I would leave first and we wouldn't be able to share the rest of the night together. 

"If you would like, I think we could make room for one more at our table," Sark tells him.

"How generous," Sloane comments. 

Sloane heads toward the dining room first and Andrew and I lag behind. He gives me a look as to say, "Sorry", and we head into the room. Sark heads into the kitchen and a few of his servants make room at the table for Sloane. We all end up sitting down a short time later.

"What's on the menu tonight?" Sloane asks.

"A filet with a side of oriental vegetables and rice," Sark tells him.

"Sounds delicious," Sloane comments.

"You've been awful quiet, Sydney," Andrew says to me. It was obviously hard for him not to add on 'darling' to the end of the sentence, and I only wished he could.

"I suppose I have," I only add in.

"How was the mission?" Sloane asks the both of us.

"It was well," Sark informs him. "Went off without a hitch."

"Yes, it went very smoothly," I add in.

"Well, that's good. I wouldn't want any problems to trouble the either of you," Sloane's wimpy pathetic response said.

"How's your ankle?" I ask Andrew, slightly ignoring Sloane for the time being.

"Well, the swelling has subsided and there's limited irritation or pain," Andrew tells me.

"Oh, good, it would be a bummer to have a lame ankle in this line of work," I reply to him with a smile.

"Indeed it would," he only replies.

"How was the weather in Russia this time of year?" Sloane asks, obviously bored with our conversation.

"Well," Sark replies.

            The rest of the dinner went something along those lines. Rather boring and unamusing, it was obvious that Sloane was getting joy out of seeing our evening destroyed. The man totally disgusted me. I only hoped that Sark's intentions were to someday destroy him.

Our stroke of luck came after dessert. We had moved into the bar area for after dinner drinks, when Sloane received a phone call. He went into another room while he spoke.

As soon as he was out of eyeshot, Andrew came and kissed me quickly on the lips, "I've been wanting to do that all night."

"You and me both," I tell him with a smile.

"Sorry this hasn't been the most enjoyable evening," he says to me.

"It's alright, I understand," I reassure him.

Sloane quickly reenters and tells us his news, "It seems there has been some type of security breach at the Credit Dauphine building. I have to go examine the problem."

"Oh, really?" Sark questions him.

"Yes, indeed, I must be running along," Sloane adds. We follow him to the front door and say our goodnight greetings and quickly shut the door.

"Finally, that fool left," Andrew comments.

"No kidding," I joke.

"So, Sydney," he starts, leading me up his stairs. "Tell me about what you Americans do on your dates."

"What, you're not American?" I kid with him.

"Good one," he adds in. "Seriously, though, I don't want to rush… us."

"Fairly stated," I reassure him. "Well, in my case, we always watch a movie or something along those lines."

"Oh, really?" he asks.

"Or get incredibly drunk," I joke.

"I like the latter better," Andrew says.

"Good, me too," I say.

He leads me back into his game room where I was earlier. I sit down on the couch and he opens up a large cupboard filled with what seemed like a million DVDs.

"What, did you get a discounted rate if you bought out the whole store?" I joke with him.

"Very funny, Sydney," he adds. "I'm a movie fan, I must admit."

"Oh really? You find time to enjoy the finer points of the film world?" I ask.

            "The only thing that possibly keeps me sane," he explains.

"Well, what do you recommend?" I continue.

            "Have you seen 'The Ring'?" he asks me.

"Do you think I have time either?" I question him in joking sense.

"Then, 'The Ring' it is," he says.

            We enjoyed the movie and I found my way cuddled up into his arms. It was very relaxing and comforting at the same time. I never could have imagined him before as the cuddly type, but he definitely was good at it.

            After the film was done, one kiss led to several others and soon we were like two hormone infested teenagers making out like crazy. After twenty minutes or so, I realized it was getting late, so to avoid any questions on Francie or Will's part, I had to be going.

            I sat up after we both pulled away for a breath, "I really have to be going."

            "Sydney," he starts. "I don't want you to go."

            A brave and certainly noble thing to say, I am struck by his amazing, but simple words.

            "You know all I want to do is to stay here, in your arms, but it's too early and I might draw suspicion from my roommate and the CIA," I explain to him.

            His facial expressions drop as he understands, "I understand."

            He leads me to the door, gives me one last kiss before saying, "Here," handing me a package.

            "Wait until you get home to open it, in the secrecy of your bedroom," he furthers his explanation.

            "Okay," I give him a last smile and say, "Good night, Andrew."

            "Good night, Sydney," he says as I step out onto the sidewalk and he shuts the door. I held the small package in my hand, itching to open its contents.

            As soon as I got into my bedroom, I tore open the package. Inside was a small box and inside lay a small bracelet with a beautiful, rare stone I had never seen before as it's centerpiece. Under it, there laid a small note:

            _Sydney-_

_This stone is one of only a few remaining left in the world. I bought it for you because like it, you are one in a million._

_-Andrew_

            Wow. He was truly amazing. A whole different person than I knew before. Wow, was this going to get complicated or what.

~~Reviews help me write!! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!~~ Masquerade


	12. New Developments

Author's Notes: Thanks again to my great reviewers! Keep them coming! Hopefully this will help fill our non-Alias Sunday sadness! Hope you enjoy and reviewers are always greatly appreciated! 

**Disclaimer:** The characters of Alias belong to ABC, J.J. Abrams and all those awesome people!

****SYDNEY POV****

The next day I was called into the CIA Operations Center to be debriefed on a situation, or rather, that's all they told me.  I made my usual jog through the park, dropped the coin, punched the numbers in the telephone, and soon enough, I was inside the Op Center.

            For some reason, it felt different today. Maybe it was because I was holding one of my biggest secrets from the CIA or maybe because I was happy about the bracelet and dinner last night with Sark. The possibilities were endless and I think it was going to take me a few days to sort things out.

            "Hey Sydney," a voice, Vaughn's, said to me from behind as I walked through the center.

            "Oh, hey Vaughn," I reply, turning to greet him. 

            "Do you know what this is about?" he asks me.

            I shake my head and reply, "None at all."

            "Me neither," he tells me. We walk together into the conference room. Keeping this from Vaughn and my father would be the hardest. They would most likely, or have to, notice a change in me and raise their suspicion level. I would just have to try my hardest to not allow that to happen. 

            I walk into the room, trailing Vaughn, and make my way into a seat on the left side. A few other agents walked in, some I knew, and some I didn't, including my father and Kendall. Oh joy, we've got the whole party in here.

            It seemed like we were waiting for a few others to join us so I just made small talk with Vaughn on the weather and his excitement for a Kings game he was going to later that week. I tried to stay amused, but my mind was somewhere else.

            _Thinking about him._ Sark, that is. He was major affecting my work and I had to get him out of my head, at the CIA of all places, that was for sure. I noticed a few other older looking men enter the room and then it became apparent that Kendall wanted to start the meeting.

            "This," he starts, "is Mr. Sark."

            He pulls up a picture of my new found love and I have to hold in the cough/laugh/utter confusion that otherwise would have spilled from my lips. I just look down, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone yet. 

            It was a pretty good picture of him, I had to admit. His hair was done perfectly… wait, must concentrate on the issue at hand. What does the CIA want with him?

            "We've received some intel in the past few days suggesting of his whereabouts, not only in LA, but in other locations around the world," Kendall continues.

            "Where did the intel come from?" I ask him.

            "Some information was given to one of our contacts in Italy," he explains.

            I shake my head in acknowledgement. This was an interesting development. Was it possible that Sark planted the info on purpose to be captured? Or was it seriously leaked? Whatever the answer maybe, I needed to find the question and talk with him to make sure he's safe.

            "Your mission," Kendall begins, "Is to stake out Sark's supposed house in LA and try to capture him."

            Oh wow, this was a major conflict of interests if I ever saw it. Come on, Sydney, think fast on your feet, come up with an excuse…

            "When?" I ask him.

            "We're going to get into position after sunset, tonight," he furthers his explanation. "Any other questions?"

            No one mutters a word and the meeting is quickly dismissed. I say a quick goodbye to Vaughn and my father and head out. I had to meet with Sark as soon as possible.

            On my way home, I pulled into a gas station and went to the pay phone in the back. Easiest way to make contact to avoid suspicion. I dialed the phone number he gave me and twisted the bracelet I kept well hidden during my duration at the CIA. The phone rang two times, but he soon answered with a simple, "Sark."

            "It's me," I whispered.

            "What's wrong?" he asks in suspicion.

            "We need to meet, right now," I tell him hurriedly.

            I hear him pause in the background, then reply with, "There's a small Chinese restaurant on Young St. Meet me there in 15 minutes."

            That was it. The call ended and I rushed back into my car. It was starting to hit me. I was crossing the CIA as well just so I could pursue a relationship with a wanted man in their eyes. It they only knew him, they might have second thoughts about his motives.

            I arrived in approximately 12 minutes and found my way to a table in the back, darkest, corner of the restaurant. No more than 1 minute later, he arrived and made his way back to the table.

            We sat out of eyeshot and were able to exchange a small kiss. He takes my hand a gives it a squeeze and he looks rather happy.

            "What's going on?" he asks. "You seem a little distracted on the phone."

            I pause before responding to that, "Well, it seems we might have a little problem."

            "What kind of problem?" he continues.

            "The kind that the CIA is staking out your house tonight to try to nab you," I inform him.

            A small smile creeps across his face and I could only imagine what he was seeing with the expression on my face. 

            "You're smiling," I bluntly inform him.

            "I planned this," he explains.

            I let out a sigh of relief and gives my hand another squeeze of relief.

            I give a little smile and respond with, "You planned to give me a heart attack?"

            He can only smile at my response, and explains himself, "I wanted a way to start working with the CIA. What other way than leaking them information yourself."

            I am quiet for a moment before I can respond to the information just provided. "You want to what?"

            "Work for the CIA, I waited to contact them so I would have Sloane's trust first," he further explains.

            "You better not be lying to me," I tell him.

            He's taken back by the comment, but he should have been expecting it. "I know that our relationship is going to be a problem when it comes to the secrets that we, mostly me, have."

            "I know, that's the only thing that's tearing me apart about me actually liking you," I inform him.

            He gives my hand a squeeze again and says, "But we can make it through. Sydney, tonight, I know you'll have to be with the team. But tell them you'll approach the door, and then bring me out, and everything will work out fine. I won't even resist."

            "Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask him.

            "I've never been more sure about anything," he adds in.

            "Then, it's settled," I say, finalizing everything.

            We both remain quiet for a minute, but it's the feeling of his hand caressing the part of my wrist with my bracelet that causes me to speak.

            "I love it," I tell him.

            "When I saw it, I couldn't help to not think of you, it was beautiful, and you are beautiful," he tells me.

            "Aw," I start, blushing, "Why do you have to be such a romantic at heart?"

            "It's one thing I can do to keep me away from the madness that can consume someone if they're been in this business for too long," Andrew explains.

            "That's the truth," I add.

            "Well, we must really be off, I believe we have a large night head of us," he adds in.

            We lean over and exchange a quick kiss and he leaves, but I wait to avoid any suspicion. I finish off my water and head out.

            I jump in the CIA van and we're well on our way to Sark's house. When we arrive, I can feel my fingers trembling, and luckily the gloves cover it up so my fellow CIA agents wouldn't get suspicious. We arrived at his place and my heart started beating even faster than it already was.

            "I'm going up," I tell them.

            "See you when you come back with Sark," Vaughn says, flashing me one of his adorable smiles.

            I head out and go straight to the front door and ring it. I slowly open the door and what scares me most is seeing the sight inside.

~Thanks for reading! Reviews are great appreciated and admired!~ Masquerade


	13. A Choice to Be Made

**Author's Notes: **I know, it's amazing that I updated so soon! But I was inspired by all the inspiration you all left me from the last chapter! Thanks for all the great reviews, they really made my day. A special shout out to spanner- your review was just downright awesome! Since I left you all in suspense… here I go…

**Disclaimer:** The characters of Alias belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I just take them out for fun!

****Sydney POV****

            I take a step in and glance around. Nothing. The sight of the house without anything scared me the most. Was he gone? Did he betray me like I thought he would?

"Syd? Are you there?" I hear Vaughn's voice ring in my ear.

"Um, one sec," I reply.

I continue walking through the house and walk into the dining room where we had dinner last night. It was empty as well. At that point, I almost burst into tears, but was stopped by the single rose and card that lay on a ledge over the fireplace.

            I walked over to the mantle and took off the card. In obviously Sark's handwriting, Sydney was neatly written across the center. I was apprehensive to open it, but did slowly and pulled out the letter inside.

            _My dearest Sydney,_

_As you can clearly tell, I'm not here. But do not fret, I'm nearby. Inform your superiors that I want to assist the CIA as a double agent inside SD-6 in order to destroy it. Also inform them that I would be willing to give them valuable intel to assist in their destruction of SD-6, to help prove my allegiance to them. As soon as you have a response from your superiors, please place your flag on your mailbox up and I will be contacting you shortly thereafter._

_Hope to hear from you soon,_

_            -S_

            I dropped the letter on the table. I could hear Vaughn's voice in my ear, but it was all a blur. He didn't say anything in the letter about us. However, then again, he would have had to because he figured the CIA would read the letter. Maybe he did actually have feelings for me? Maybe he was doing this to make me happy… I truly hoped that was why.

            I didn't even notice, but the team had entered and Vaughn was standing beside me. He put a hand up to my shoulder and must have repeated my name ten times before I replied.

            "Oh, sorry," I replied.

            "Are you okay, Syd?" Vaughn asked. 

            I shook my head in approval, "Of course, what do you think?" I handed him the letter and waited to continue as he read the letter.

            Vaughn finished and began with, "He wants to what?"

            "I think we should give him a chance," I say to him.

            He looked appalled at my response and said, "You think what? Sydney, since when do you like Sark?"

            "Well, the last mission we went on for SD-6 he wasn't that bad… I think we should let him help us," I say defiantly.

            "What, so he can go back and feed info from the CIA to Sloane? I don't know Syd, I don't think the director's going to approve this," he informs me.

            "We should probably go then, you know, find out?" I tell him.

            He gives me a weird look, but shrugs it off and we head out the door. I take one last peek inside the house I had grown to love last night and shut the door.

                "I really think this is an opportunity we can't pass up," I insisted to Kendall for the 50th time.

            "I understand your need and want to take down SD-6 and I understand that you're willing to use all resources, but I don't know how the United States government could work with a well known terrorist," he explains.

            "Can't we just see what he has to offer and then judge then?" I ask him.

            Looking flustered, Kendall turns to my father, "Well, Jack, you've been quiet through this whole ordeal. What do you have to say?"

            He stops, looking stunned for a second, but continues with, "We've trusted Irina and so far she's proven herself trustworthy. They both used to work together. Maybe it was part of their grand scheme."

            "What, to then have Sark release Irina from our custody?" Kendall remarks back.

            I say, "He would never have to set foot inside this building. It would be contacts outside of the building."

            "We could give him a trial of some sorts, I suppose," my father chimes in. It was amazing how he was actually agreeing with me. I wonder what made him change his mind.

            "You Bristows, will be the death of me," Kendall mutters.

            "Well, that's comforting," I add in.

            There is a small silence that falls over our group and I hope that he agrees. If we were to give him a trial, it would be a trial to the CIA and to me. If he were doing this for me, he would prove it in his trial.

            "Fine," Kendall decides. "Only a trial only and if there is any indication that he's double crossing us, we'll take him in custody and give him life to the death sentence."

            Wow, wanted to make his point, didn't he? Inside, I was screaming with joy. More than joy, excitement. I now could possibly trust Sark more than I trusted him. Now, all I had to do was make contact.

            "Sir, should I go make contact?" I ask him.

            "Yes, please," he starts, but continues with, "And Jack, you go speak to Irina and see if she has any info on the subject."

            We both go our opposite directions and I sense that there is a bounce in my step, so I have to hold down my excitement. And to imagine that this all started with Sark and I getting trapped in an elevator together and getting to know each other a little bit more…

            I jumped out of my jeep and noticed that it was 9pm already. I was guessing that this was going to be a long night. I headed over to my mailbox and carefully put the flag up. Now was the moment of truth indeed. Continuing inside, I looked around, but couldn't see anything suspicious in the area.

            Walking in the front door, my cell phone rang when my hand closed the door. I grabbed it, pressed the send key, and glanced to make sure Francie or Will weren't around. 

            "Hello?" I answered, with fingers crossed, hoping it was him.

            "Hello, my love," his wonderful voice rang through my ears.

            I smiled inside and replied, "I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon, but then again, I suppose I did."

            "Sorry I had to semi-trick you," he starts. "I had to maintain some of the surprise on you as well."

            "Well understood," I say to him. "So, they said yes, but only on a trial basis, you have to prove to them you are to be trusted."

            "Understandable," he says. "I wish we could… meet somewhere."

            I giggle a little, replying, "Me too. But the CIA's watching me carefully right now. They're afraid you'll want to hurt me or something."

            "If they only knew," Andrew mutters.

            I paused a second, wondering if I should bring up the subject, then decide against it, "So, I'll talk to you later, once I know what the CIA wants you to do, okay?"

            "Indeed," he starts. "Sydney," he pauses, again. "I've missed you."

            I smile all over and reply, "I've missed you. You've had me worried." 

            "You'll never have to worry about me." 

            "That's for sure. So, I should go," I say.

            "See you soon, my love," he replies.

            "Goodbye, Andrew," I end the call with the famous words, his real name.

~Thanks for reading! Reviews are always greatly appreciated!~ Masquerade


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